


Late Nights, Earlier Mornings

by swanqueenfic13



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 04:23:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5953441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swanqueenfic13/pseuds/swanqueenfic13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Chloe is freaking out about an essay that she has to hand in tomorrow and she asks Beca to help her. Beca hesitates, because she has to get up early tomorrow for a job interview or something of that kind that only Fat Amy knows about, but she stays to help Chloe anyway even though she has no clue what she's talking about. When they're all eating a take out the next day Fat Amy asks how the job interview went (It went awful, Beca turned up an hour late because she slept through her alarm and then she babbled the whole way through out of sleep deprivation) and Chloe asks why she stayed and helped her. Ending is up to you.” ~LemongrassAndSleep ( @she-smellslikelemongrassandsleep )</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late Nights, Earlier Mornings

“Beca, you need to fix that,” Stacie says lowly, pointing to the kitchen. Beca, who had planned on an early night in preparation for an interview early tomorrow, just raised her eyebrow. “Chloe. You need to fix her.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“She yelled at Legacy. Like,  _ yelled _ . She’s crying in her room, right now, convinced she should quit the Bellas. Chloe’s stressing about some stupid paper, and I don’t think she’s slept in a few days, and we all know that Chloe Beale on no sleep is like… Hitler 2.0,” Stacie whispers harshly. “Now, I have to go stop Legacy from packing her bags. You go  _ fix the ginger _ .” And with that, Stacie storms away, up the stairs.

Beca groans. Why did she always have to fix everything? She had an interview the next day for an important job at a new record label, desperately looking for new, young talent. She hadn’t told anyone, not wanting to jinx herself. But really, of all the times for Chloe to go postal, it had to be  _ now _ ?

“Chloe?” she says gently, slowly opening the door to the kitchen. Chloe was sitting cross-legged at the head of the table, coffee mug overturned next to her laptop, eyes wide and frenzied. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, typing angrily.

“What?” she says shortly.

“Heard you got a little upset with Legacy,” Beca says, using the tone one might use on a rabid animal, approaching slowly, not wanting to startle Chloe.

“She was being annoying. Asking questions.” She stops typing, staring at the laptop screen as if trying to burn a hole through it.

“Press save, Chlo,” Beca warns.

“Beca-”

“Press save,” she insists. Chloe sighs, but Beca waits until she sees her press the button before snapping the laptop closed and grabbing it.

“I need that back,” Chloe says, standing up, pointing one finger. “I don’t have time to talk feelings.”

“What is happening?”

“I have a huge paper due tomorrow, and it sucks! I’ve been writing and rewriting for days, and it  _ sucks _ , Beca! I don’t have time to hold anyone’s hand while they figure out notes, or sort out their boy problems. I have to write this paper, but I can’t because I’m an  _ idiot _ !” she shrieks frantically.

“Chloe, take a chill pill. When’s the last time you ate? Or slept? Or had something besides coffee?”

“I don’t know. Don’t remember. I need to write. Can I have my laptop?”

“No,” Beca shrugs. “Not until you eat something, drink a bunch of water,  _ and _ apologize to Emily. She’s just a kid.” Chloe rolls her eyes. “And enough with the eye rolling. Sarcasm is my forte. Now, what is this paper on?” Beca maintains a tight grip on the laptop while she gets a glass of water. She hands it to Chloe and waits for her to start drinking before she opens the fridge and starts making a sandwich.

“It’s for women’s studies,” Chloe says after drinking the entire glass. She moves to refill it. “I have to write a minimum of ten pages on the anti-feminist movement through the past fifty years. And I suck at it.”

“Eat the sandwich. Drink that second glass. We’ll go apologize to Emily, and I will help you get started,” Beca orders.

 

“I’m so sorry I yelled, Emily. I just… I get a little crazy when I’m under stressed,” Chloe apologizes.

“A little?” Stacie snorts. Beca elbows her. “What?”

“I get really crazy. Like, major crazy. But I shouldn’t yell. And I’m sorry,” Chloe amends. Emily just chuckles, wiping away her tears, and hugs Chloe. Satisfied, Beca pulls Chloe back to her room to get her started. The faster they get this over with, the faster she can get to bed.

 

“Okay, we’ve gone through your outline, fixed a few points. I looked at your drafts. You should be good. Fix up your final draft, and you will be fine,” Beca sighs, standing to leave. It’s later than she had planned on going to bed, but she can still scrounge up a good night’s sleep. Chloe grabs her wrist.

“Stay. I’m so tired. I might fall asleep and never finish it and fail  _ again _ and I won’t graduate and I’m so in debt already and if I don’t graduate this year my life will be over and-”

“Chloe, I’ll stay while you start, okay? But, but I’ve got to get to bed-”

“Please, Becs, I can’t focus when you’re not around,” Chloe whines. Beca closes her eyes, but sits back on the bed. She can’t deny Chloe anything.

 

“Becs, can you read this? I’m not sure it sounds right,” Chloe whispers. Beca nods. It’s 2 AM now, and she’s got no hope of getting a decent night’s sleep before this interview. Maybe with enough coffee, she can still be coherent.

“Change this wording, see? It’s a little awkwardly phrased. How much more do we have to get through?”

“Just two more pages,” Chloe hums, typing furiously. Beca groans.

 

“Okay, read my conclusion and then we’re done,” Chloe mumbles.

“4 AM, Chloe. It is 4AM,” Beca groans, the laptop screen burning her eyes. “Cut out that last sentence, and you’re good, dude.”

“You sure?”

“Positive,” Beca groans. “Can I go to bed, now?” Chloe nods, closing the computer and laying back on her bed, eyes already closed. Beca just stumbles up the stairs, falling into her bed.

 

“I am so sorry, Mr. Strigido. The traffic was terrible. I underestimated,” Beca says quickly, standing when the man enters the room. He raises one eyebrow.

“You certainly did. But, I can look past that. You are incredibly talented,” he says sternly. She grins, shaking his hand and sitting down.

“Thank you, sir.”

“So, tell me about yourself. Who  _ is _ Beca Mitchell?”

“Um, well, who am I? Loaded question, sir. I mean, like-uh. I’m a college student, right now. At Barden. I’m a music major. I am captain of the Barden Bellas, an all-female acapella group. We make music. Like, with our mouths,” Beca says quickly, nervously. Her hands shake under the table with three coffees, and a red bull she had stolen from Stacie.

“Right, I’ve, uh,  _ heard _ about your group,” he laughs, and Beca’s heart starts to race. Maybe she should’ve slept instead of consuming her body weight in caffeine.

“Yeah, that was Fat Amy, at the President’s birthday thing. Oh, she calls herself Fat Amy, I’m not- uh, she says she does it so twig bitches don’t say it behind her back. But, um, that’s not the point. Right. Um, what was the question?” she pulls at her shirt collar.

“Who are you?” he repeats, looking less than impressed. Beca smiles weakly. This interview was not off to a great start.

 

“Hey, Becs, pass the lo mein,” Fat Amy says later that night. Beca slides the container across the floor. It was their annual takeout night. Chloe had insisted on weekly Bella Bonding (ignoring Beca’s assertions that living in the same house ought to be  _ enough _ bonding time, thank you very much), and they had decided to watch movies (much to Beca’s chagrin) and get takeout.

“How’d you finish that paper, Chlo?” Stacie asks, nudging the sleepy redhead. She was leaning into Beca’s shoulder, but shuddered to sit up when Stacie called her name again.

“Hmm? Oh, it was great. Beca really helped,” she says, stifling a yawn.

“Oh, shortstack!” Amy exclaims. “How’d that top secret interview go?”

“Interview?” Legacy asks, canting her head like a confused puppy. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I didn’t want to jinx it. But it went like crap, thanks for asking,” Beca groans.

“Why?” Jessica asks. Ashley pauses the movie.

“Well, let’s see. I overslept about an hour, so I was late. I was running on fumes, coffee, and Stace’s red bull-”

“It was  _ you _ !” Stacie exclaims. “I nearly killed CR!”

“I once killed a man who stole my lollipop,” Lilly says, so softly that Flo is the only one who hears her, shifting away as she adds, “I was three.”

“Right, I’ll buy you another one. Point is, the interview sucked. I’ll probably never get a call back. It’s whatever,” Beca shrugs, leaning down to nuzzle her head into Chloe. Movie nights are the only time she willingly gets cuddly, and normally, Chloe would take every advantage. But this time, she leans away, glaring at Beca.

“You were exhausted,” she accuses.

“Yep,” Beca nods.

“You stayed up all night to help me with my paper.”

“Mhmm.”

“You had an  _ interview _ first thing in the morning!”

“What’s your point?” Beca sighs. The other girls watch them the way they watch a tennis match, heads shifting back and forth to watch the exchange.

“My point is:  _ why? _ ”

“Why  _ what _ ?”

“Why stay up and help me when you had an interview the next morning?”

“Because.”

“Because why? You could have just told me to suck it up, be a big girl and get my shit together. If it was anyone else, that’s what you would have done.”

“I would not!”

“Isn’t that what you did when legacy was freaking about her calc test?”

“I… plead the fifth,” Beca squirms.

“What the fuck, Becs!” Everyone stops.

“Holy crap, Chloe doesn’t swear,” someone hisses.

“This is serious. Get out of here,” Stacie commands.

“Every man for themselves!” Amy shouts. “Run away! Bring the Chinese!” Beca and Chloe just stare at each other until the room empties. Chloe narrows her eyes. Beca shrugs.

“You tanked your interview just to help me.”

“So?”

“Where was this interview? For what position?” Beca squirms under the weight of Chloe’s glare.

“At an up and coming recording studio. They… need junior producers, or something…” Beca mumbled.

“You crapped out on your dream interview. Your  _ dream _ . To help me with some stupid,  _ stupid _ paper? What the actual  _ fuck, _ Mitchell? You just threw away your best shot to jumpstart your career! Why the hell would you do that?” Beca shrugs.

“Because… I…” Beca makes the mistake of looking up at Chloe, then. Chloe’s smiling, and it makes Beca’s stomach fly into her throat, makes her skin start to tingle. Chloe raises one eyebrow, and Beca feels like an idiot.

“You what, Becs?” she teases. “Are you gonna say it’s cause you  _ love me _ ?”

“You’re my best friend, but I hate you,” Beca pouts.

“Beca Mitchell loves me, Beca Mitchell loves me. She’s a big old softie and she  _ loves me _ ,” Chloe sings. Beca shoves her. “She’s my best friend, and she loves me. Beca Mitchell lo-” Beca interrupts Chloe in the only way she knows- with her mouth. Chloe freezes in shock for a moment before she reacts, and kisses Beca back.

“Damn straight Beca Mitchell loves you, Chloe,” she whispers roughly, pulling away. Chloe grins at her, yanking her back to continue the kiss.

 

“So, Mr. Strigido, I’ve gotta ask. What made you give me another chance for my interview?” Beca asks, grinning broadly. She had set five alarms this time, and arrived ten minutes early. She had kept it to one cup of coffee, and gotten a decent sleep. She was  _ not _ screwing up this time.

“An impassioned plea from a friend. Insisted that your… exhaustion in your last interview was really just a sign of your passion and dedication. Said you stayed up all night to help her with an assignment,” he says, shrugging. “She argued that it was a sign that you give everything to a project, and would give everything to work. You put other people first, yada, yada, yada. And she may have spammed my e-mail, phone, social media, and even my house with copies of your mixes to prove you’re talented. So, Miss Mitchell, let’s give it another go, eh?” She grins.  _ God, do I love Chloe, _ Beca thinks.

“Yes, sir, let’s do it,” she grins eagerly.


End file.
